


settle for the ghost (i never knew)

by v1ewmonster



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Mental Health Issues, Nonbinary Character, Post-Canon, Questioning, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v1ewmonster/pseuds/v1ewmonster
Summary: i feel so fucking numb / it hits my head and i feel numb / my body's looking wrong / my body's looking wrong(in which claus is disgusted by the body that was given to him)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	settle for the ghost (i never knew)

**Author's Note:**

> me whenever i refer to claus or lucas: so there’s this he/they,,  
> btw lucas is a demiboy who goes by he/they pronouns (which fluctuates in this fic) while claus is agender with he/they pronouns (tho only goes by he in this fic cause mixed gender feelings)  
> also as the tags state,, a lot of trigger warnings, so read at your own risk and please stay safe!!  
> i wanna know if i'm conveying specific mental health issues right, since characters and themes like this are hard to write in the first place, so feel free to leave a comment on what i'm doing right and what i need to improve on!

Every day, every night, Claus looks at himself in the mirror. 

Bile reaches the back of his throat every time he catches sight of his cybernetic parts. They serve as a reminder that he’s no longer human, that he will never be human again. He can’t detach them from his body, or else he’ll no longer have a second pair of legs. How he  _ wishes  _ those parts of him were flesh and bone, that he doesn’t have to look at a monster whenever he gets up to brush his teeth. 

He’s not the fan favorite villager everybody coined him to be in the past. He tends to cover his ears whenever the residents of Tazmily call him a monster, a thorn in his brother’s side. Speaking of which, his brother has far surpassed him. He’s not the coddled crybaby he once knew, now a confident boy who can thwart pressuring situations with ease. He’s everything Claus was, what he was stripped of. It irritates him, but he represses those jealous emotions like water cascading through a dam. 

Normally, Claus would inform Lucas of all the topics running rampant inside his mind, though he hasn’t done that since he got revived thanks to Lucas’ cowardice. Well, maybe they  _ do  _ have a bit of his past self deep inside still. 

How is he supposed to talk to Lucas when he’s the product of the man that ruined their life? How can he speak to him again when he hasn’t changed a bit since then? These thoughts creep to the forefront of his mind every night, showing no signs of leaving. Why does Lucas bother to  _ interact  _ when he’s like this? He’s so irredeemable it’s laughable. He should kill himself already. 

And that’s exactly what he plans to do, standing at the edge of an ancient bridge. It’s away from Tazmily, and that’s the best part. He doesn’t want anyone from town discovering his body. 

He’s amazed that his body isn’t shaking at what’s below. Not a tinge of regret lingers inside his mind. His heart pushes him forward to make this decision. And nobody, not even Lucas, can stop him. 

But when he sets out to do what he’s been  _ dying  _ to do, his body refuses. His body, this disgusting body that he desperately wants to throw away. This body that isn’t his, no matter how much it pleads otherwise. He suppresses the urge to cry once he notices the tears trickling from his eyelids.  _ Does he really want to do this?  _

Should he run away? Hide away in the forest so he’ll never be seen again? Or should he end it all right here, while he still has time? So many choices that he may or may not make… 

“Claus?” Lucas’ voice sends a rush of anxiety and adrenaline in his veins. He whips his head around, Lucas in his field of vision. 

_No…_ what are _they_ doing here?

Claus sucks in his gut, stays close to the edge of the bridge. He waits for Lucas to come to  _ him,  _ but he’s not going to accept their hospitality, without a shadow of a doubt. Why should he? 

He stays silent, though that doesn’t go over well with Lucas. Their facial expression says everything: a desolate look that would pierce even the most coldhearted of people. And Claus is no exception. 

“You can’t convince me of anything,” Claus says, voice scratchy. He coughs, but all that comes out of his mouth is fresh blood. 

Lucas’ hands ball into fists, and they try not to stare Claus in the eye right then. Wind rushes through their hair, which doesn’t stop the tears from flowing, but what do they care? “Claus…” 

“What?” It’s a question that cuts deep into Lucas’ skin like a dull knife.

“You don’t need to do this,” Lucas says. “We can talk it o-”

“No we can’t!!” Claus snaps. He holds onto the bridge’s hinges while staring down below. Maybe he’ll get lucky and lose his balance. “If you think that’s going to help my heaping amount of problems that will never be erased, you got another thing coming!” 

This time, Lucas isn’t fazed. His logical side fades into view, and it  _ scares  _ Claus. They wear a neutral expression instead of their typical compromised one. And he doesn’t know how to feel about… all this.

“Why can’t you open up?” Lucas asks. “You did just fine, all those years ago.”

Claus laughs at that statement. What a  _ hilarious _ joke, Lucas! How smart! Innovative! Laugh out  _ fucking  _ loud. “I’m not like  _ you, _ you know this.” He throws his hands up, his feet reaching the edge of the bridge. “What do you  _ think  _ I’m going to do, wear my heart on my sleeve like you do? I’m not that kid anymore, I never was!”

“But you  _ can  _ be!” Lucas retorts. “You can  _ be  _ that kid again, if you decide to  _ listen-”  _

“Face it, Lucas,” Claus interjects. “You’re not going to convince me to get out of this situation. Try as you might, but you  _ will  _ fail.” 

Lucas says nothing, this time. They merely stare at him, and Claus stares back, the smugness leaving his expression. They stare at him, again, and  _ again, _ until they can’t look at him any longer. 

This is their brother… their  _ brother, _ who’s known as the light in a dark tunnel. Their brother, who’d get them out of any sticky situation, no matter how perilous. Their brother, who would open up to them whenever the opportunity struck.

But now… he’s still their brother, albeit with a fresh coat of paint. And that’s fine. It always was, but it’s something Lucas has to get used to, and they’re going to have to help him with the best of their ability. Besides, they owe it to him. 

Lucas steps forward and grabs Claus’ hand. They grab it, and hold it tight so that Claus won’t be able to resist. He then turns around and runs farther and farther from the bridge. They are  _ not  _ going to let Claus succeed. 

Claus blunders his way out of Lucas’ grip, but to no avail. Lucas quickens their pace, and sooner or later, they’re in close proximity to Tazmily Village. Claus does nothing else to resist. 

But he knows this isn’t over.

  
  
  


“Tell me everything,” Lucas says over a cup of tea. 

Claus exchanges an addled look. His previous thought is replaced by wondering how Lucas knows how to  _ make  _ tea, and when they started craving it. 

Regardless, Claus asks them to elaborate.

“You know what I mean,” Lucas says sternly, but he reiterates anyway. “I want to know what caused you to want to jump off that bridge.” 

Claus looks at his cup. He takes a small sip while rolling his eyes. It’s… not bad, but it’s not  _ good.  _ He can tell that Lucas recently took up the skill. 

“Claus,  _ please,”  _ The desperation in their eyes grow evermore. 

Again,  _ nothing. _ And Claus prefers to keep it that way. He can’t tell them of the long winded war raging inside his mind since Lucas’ wish has been granted. A rather selfish wish, if you will. But he’d never tell Lucas that. Not to his face.

He flexes his mechanical arm, how  _ disgusting.  _ He’s ripped it off so many times, he doesn’t know how long it would take for it to be off his arm completely. As for everything else, he has his eye to thank for his enhanced sight. Too bad he has a pretty nice scar and red pupil to boot. 

Both of these things, including his newly added prosthetic leg, make him feel detached from himself all the more. Is he really who he claims to be, with these cybernetics in the way? Is he really Claus, brother of Lucas and posterboy of Tazmily? 

_ No,  _ he doesn’t deserve such a  _ grand  _ title. 

“...fine,” Claus gives in. For once, he  _ gives in.  _ And for some reason, he feels good. “I’ll tell you. Happy?”

Lucas smiles, for the first time since they’ve confronted Claus tonight. “I’m happy to hear that.” 

Claus pushes himself up and gazes at his unfinished cup of tea. He’ll drink it later. Right now, the sickness is starting to settle in as he prepares to tell Lucas  _ everything.  _

“You see this?” He points to his cybernetics, specifically his arm. “You see what that  _ pigheaded fuck  _ did to me?” He remembers it clear as day, when he sparked a fight with a Drago and ended up left for dead because of it. That’s when Porky Minch took him. “I may have my limbs back… but these enhancements… they make me  _ sick.”  _ He tries not to slam his fist on the table. 

“Oh, Claus…” Lucas says, and Claus continues. 

“I’m not even myself anymore. I feel so detached from… everything. I don’t even think I’m a man anymore, and I’m not sure if it’s because of these…  _ things,  _ or because I’m like you.” 

Lucas grunts, but says nothing beyond that.

“That’s it,” Claus says. He doesn’t want to say anymore on this topic. “Any questions?” 

That’s when Lucas reaches their breaking point. They tackle Claus into a hug, shaking as they hold back their tears. Claus doesn’t do anything about it, but he’d  _ surely  _ like them to stop now. 

“Oh, Claus...” Lucas says, voice morphed by PSI. “I didn’t even know this was happening… and I thought I knew  _ everything  _ that was going on with you.” 

“Well, you didn’t,” Claus replies in indignance, “now get off of me. You’re getting your germs everywhere.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Lucas collects Claus’ cup of tea and sets it on the table. They don’t want to think. They only want to console Claus, tell him that everything is  _ fine,  _ that he can take his time with things.

“It’s okay, Claus,” Lucas sits back down. “It’s normal to figure out who you are, and it’s also okay to realize that an external source is making you feel this way.” 

“Sure…” 

“But it’s nothing to kill yourself over!” Lucas continues. “You know I can help you with these things, right? I may be the younger sibling, but I have thoughts and experiences too.” 

Claus taps his nails against the wooden table. They’ve  _ definitely  _ had experience with what the world outside has to offer, way more than Claus, but… can he trust them with the secrets he holds so dear? 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Claus says, eyes still fixated on the table. “And about the gender thing… maybe try using “they” to refer to me from now on? Not that calling me “brother” and “he” is bad, but… well, you already know what I’m going to say.” 

Lucas nods. “Of course, Claus.” 

“And about killing myself… you won’t stop me from getting urges now and then, but if you plan to stop me again, make your case convincing. That’s all.” 

Claus heads toward the direction of his room, but not before Lucas grabs his frigid hand. He wrings his head around, notices the glossy look in Lucas’ eyes. 

“One last hug before you go?” 

A sigh escapes Claus’ lips, but he accepts the hug anyway. He owes everything to them, especially on this dismal night. Lucas’ hugs are warm as always, something he’s been needing for a very long time.

This body isn't his, and it will  _ never  _ be his. But if there's one thing he does want to claim as his...

It would be his freedom.

He wishes to be  _ free. _

And maybe Lucas is the key to his newfound freedom.


End file.
